


Know your enemy

by Cinnamon_Mey



Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Original Character Death(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 08:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamon_Mey/pseuds/Cinnamon_Mey
Summary: You are a virgin girl from a little Irish village. Your origins and beliefs require you to leave a cup of milk out of the door every night, for pixies. When you are eighteen, your parents force you a arranged wedding. Their fear is that you can be a spinster for the rest of your life. In your last night as a free woman you leave your home for a walk in the woods but you get lost and you pray the spirits to find the way.





	1. Know your enemy

**Author's Note:**

> *My native language is not english so I apologize if you find some mistakes, I’m still improving :)

_ So long ago, when the Earth was still overwhelmed by the sea, a thistle seed was flying supported by the wind… _

__

_ Arboreal Gods, protectors and keepers _  
_ Sacred creatures linked to this land _  
_ Pixies, sylvans, fairies ed elementals _  
_I pray for your help so I can come back home._

  
You open a little your eyes, annoyed by the light is filtering from the wooden boards roughly nailed to the windows. Your mind is confused but soon you remember everything, the loss, the fear and your desperate voice blends into the wind that caresses the tops of the trees.  
Your thoughts are interrupted by a deep scornful voice.  
“Your prayers have been fulfilled.”  
A towering figure emerges from a dark corner of the room. You slip at the end of the bed, crouching like a scared little girl.  
He approaches with deliberately heavy steps and he bends over to you. You can see his redhead and beard of the same color and you can get lost in his blue eyes like the sky of your beloved Ireland.  
Those eyes. You can hear from the deep. It’s pure danger, a risk, an insidious but you can’t distract yourself and you can’t take control of your emotions. Your heartbeat is so strong you can hear it in your ears.  
His mocking smile comes out, he gives you a hand and he helps you to stand up. You accept his help, without realize and you can see the details of that bare hut.  
You look down.  
“You’re wrong. This is not my home.” Reply firmly.  
He smiles again. A gloomy, terrifying smile.  
“You didn’t specify which house you wanted to return to.”  
A shiver runs through your back and you’re alone in that little hut that smells of mold and roots. He’s disappeared. You take your time for a deep breathe and you go out fast, run into the woods, looking for the home way. Your real home.  
You continue to run, the brambles injure your ankles and your cerulean dress get dirty with mud. Soon your long hair entangled to the low trees branches and you forced to stop.  
You can see the sunset and warm tears line your face.  
You resume your walk, with a slowly step, with low head, letting your hopes slide down with blood from scratches on your legs.  
You take your way through a bush, reaching a clearing. You look up and you become shocked. You faint in front of that little abandon hut.  
  


***

  
Once again the smell of mold and roots pervades your naris. You try to leave the bed, hungry. You open the main door, exasperated and weak but, surprisingly, you find on the entrance floor a dish of hot soup, stewed sweet potatoes, a basket with bread and and a jug full of cold beer.  
The scent is so inviting that you forget to ask yourself some obvious questions about the origin of that food. You sit on the ground, eating everything in a little time. And then, day after day, your needs are satisfied with presents left in front of the door; blankets, firewood, clothes, food, water and beer, soap and candles for light.  
The sunrise and sunset succeed many times and you lost the time, you can see different seasons with their leaves colors and the particular smell in the air. However you start to feel alone, your soul is sad and your heart is suffering. You look out to the window, it’s dark, no stars and moon in the sky.  
The silence is silent sometimes but suddenly you hear knock on the door. You hesitate and you don’t want to open but, like a flash, you remember your parents and you old life.  
“Maybe someone is looking for me. Mother, Father..”  
You open without doubts and you hold your breathe, unbelieving. He’s back. He who can’t be considered a man, who is born from grass and earth, from water of the rivers and from the wild wind. Keeper of the old rocks and treasures. Pixie of the tribal tales from the lost lands of the country.  
He enters, arrogant and you back up unable to push him away. In fact you have no reason to do that. You look at him, he wanders with curiosity and he goes and sits at table. He fills the glass of water and, surprisingly, you look  that what is coming out from the jug is nothing more than beer.  
“Is that you? Are you leaving presents out of the door?”  
He takes the glass to his mouth and looks at you while he slides the cold liquid down his throat. You seem to see a smile from him.  
“Who knows. At least, I am a present too.” He answers while he’s drying the lips with the sleeve of the tartan green jacket.  
You frown your forehead, trying to understand those enigmatic words and he gets up, approaching you. You step back, hesitant. Again that dark and terrifying smile comes out.  
He takes off his jacket and remains in his shirt sleeves, he reaches you and begins to play with a lock of your hair.  
“Look around you. You have received all you asked for, all you wanted. It’s been your loneliness to call me.”  
You shake your head and look away.  
“You are refusing the truth. Maybe you prefer to come back to your parents who can’t wait to give you to a man you don’t love?”  
His words insinuate to your mind, it’s annoying to have someone who can read inside you and it’s liberating at the same time.  
He invites you to look into his eyes, caressing your chin. He bends on you, kissing you without delay. His tongue tastes of beer and this turn you on. His hands slip on your body but you have an hesitation, you just stand back but he doesn’t like that. He holds you with strength, literally tear off your dress and throwing you on the bed behind you. You are shocked and terrified of that act but at the same time you can’t react. He knows what you want.  
He takes off his shirt and unbutton the pants. He takes you at the thighs, lay down under him with open legs and he penetrates you with straight. You miss you breath for a moment but then everything change, the pleasure makes a way inside you and you appreciate every thrust, every breath on you. You caress his muscular back and grab to his massive shoulders, your moans drive him crazy, increasing the reach of pushes inside you.  
You reach the pleasure and he grabs your face to look at his work with satisfaction, without losing the beat and then he concludes in turn.  
He left you weak on the bed, you hear him go away from you but you can’t call him, you don’t know his name and, in the end, you fall asleep.  
  


 *** 

  
You wake up overwhelmed, trembling. The wet grass touching your face, cold breeze wrap you in a sore spiral. Sunrise illuminates the worlds as always. You get up caressing your shoulders to try to get warmer. You look around you, confused, trying to orient yourself. You are on the edge of the woods, in front of you, your parents’ house. Warm tears go out from your eyes and a sense of despair takes you. You are still wearing your cerulean dress from the day of your missing. Crossing the door and your parents greeting you as nothing ever happened, there is no worry in their eyes, just love. Nothing seems changed like the time was stopped.  
You ask to yourself if what happened to you was real but you felt physical and emotional pain.  
Plans didn’t changed, your mother helps you to preparing for the wedding.  
Veil hide your inexpressive face, you go on your father’s carriage with your mother and you leave home to arrive at the place where your future husband is waiting.  
Ceremony remains a background of your thoughts. Your memories, still vivid in your mind, drive you in that slice of life in that abandon hut.  
Thinking about him and close your eyes.  
“What I want now?” you whisper.  
“What are you saying, my dear?” Ask your mother but you shake your head.  
You marry that rich arrogant man who offered to your parents ownership and rich life exchange to you. You pronounce an empty “Yes” and, in the end, you take your husband’s hand and you go on his luxury carriage full of ornaments.  
You ignore your mother’s crying, your father’s greetings, your husband’s gently words.  
You ignore.  
That night, before sleeping with your husband for the first time, a master examine you to control you are still a virgin.  
“The girl is not pure.” He say.  
His words bring you back to reality and you understand it wasn’t just a dream. Too Late. The man you married says something about you are his property and he decides to don’t cancel the marriage. That night he brings you in the worst way you can imagine. You feel just pain and humiliation.  
In the morning you wake up with some guards around you. They are waiting you dressing up and then they take you in the garden and tied to a stump.  
Your husband puts the fire on the straw that surrounds you and you start to feel hot. Smoke fills your lungs and your skin begins to burn. The pain is unbearable. Your voice rises from atrocious suffering and you can only say a thing before faint: “Save me.”  
Death arrives soon and everything ends in a short time. The spectators go away and you stay alone, as always.  
A massive figure emerges from the surrounding bush and approaches. Redhead as the beard, dressing green tartan suit. He puts a hand on your charred chest and he shouts  loudly, using all the breath in his body.  
That sound is so scary and strong that everything shut up around him, wind included.  
  
  


A legend born that day in that corner of Ireland:  _The unlucky who get lost in the woods will be found dead charred to the limit of it._


	2. Unlucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *My native language is not english so I apologize if you find some mistakes, I’m still improving :)

Your day at Mannon’s is over. You are closing the café with Mandy, the workmate you’re most comfortable with. You talk a little before greeting with a hug.  
At the bus stop you wait ten minutes, then thirty-five, then fifty.. in the end you decide to walk. It’s damn cold and your breath turns into steam in the air. You cling into the dark blue coat, diving the mouth and cheeks in the scarf, increasing your walk.  
You continue for a few feet before turning right into an alley you use as a shortcut. You put your foot on something and raising you shoe, you notice a shiny object. It’s a gold coin, bigger and thicker than any coin you’ve ever seen. It has some strange inscriptions and it makes you curious enough to stick it in your pocket before go on your way.  
You go home, your fingers are cold and you can’t wait to dress off and immerse yourself in a hot bath, even better if your boyfriend is cuddling you with a nice massage.  
“I’m home!” You say loud.  
No reply.  
“Honey!” You call him.  
You look for him everywhere and when you go to the bedroom you’ll see the worst scenario.  
He’s lying in the bed with another woman. A cliché. But you can see the irony in that moment.  
You stare on them who are naked and embarrassed. He tries to tell you something but you can’t hear him. You turn over and get out, slamming the door.  
You walk fast without a destination, low and humid eyes. Suddenly the cold doesn’t seem so terrible and it helps to bury the anger growing up on you.  
Your thoughts are interrupted by a small crowd down the street. You get closer, notice the police lights, the ambulance, the yellow tape and the young dead woman. Mandy.  
Speechless, unbelieving and upset while they close the black bag and take her away. You can listen people around you - it’s been an accident, a car hit her as she crossed the road.  
You feel like a ghost who is looking for his way. You’re lost.  
You go in a pub, the first you find, sit at the counter and start ordering alcohol. After the third beer and two shots of Jack, the barman asks you some questions.  
“May I call you a taxi, ma'am?”  
“Mind on your business. Pour.” You whisper, closing a little your eyes.  
He remains silent.  
“I have no intentions to drive, sir, don’t worry.” You try to convince him to give you more alcohol.  
“I’m worried about you.”  
He glances at some men sitting at a table at your back, you turn to look at them.  
“Is there any problems, gentlemen?” You speak loud, ignoring the consequences.  
Two of them stand up and approach you.  
“I have to ask you to leave, ma'am. I don’t want problems.”  
“No, no Carl. Wait.” One of those men says to the barman. “Let’s see what this sweetie has to say.”  
You don’s speak, realizing you’re not in the position. Finish your drink and put money on the counter.  
“Thank you, Carl. Goodnight.”  
You are on your way to leave but one of those men follow you, forcing you to stay.  
“I’m not in the mood to fight, tonight.” You are ironic. “Get away from me.”  
“I admit you’re funny. What do you think to come with us?” He says.  
“I admit you’re funny. Move your ass away from me.” You reply firmly.  
No one is helping you. The barman tries to calm down the situation but the guy sitting at the counter warns him by showing a knife. The man raises his hands and shakes his head.  
“Frank, please. You are drunk. Leave her alone.”  
You look at him.  
“Pathetic piece of shit. With all that happened to me tonight, do you really believe that a bunch of assholes can scare me?”  
Your anger, frustration, and sadness flow into that moment of low lucidity and you think if they raping or stabbing you in an alley, you don’t care.  
The man behind wraps you. You give up and try to free yourself but suddenly you hear a loud noise and your aggressor falls like a doll, releasing the grip.  
You look at him first but your glance moves up on a third man. He’s very tall, redhead and bearded. He’s still keeping the broken bottle and he has a satisfied smile.  
You look each other and you feel a strange sensation. You feel to know him but you can’t remember where and when you met him.  
Suddenly you remember to have that gold coin in your pocket, a strange thought to have in that moment.  
You put your hand in the pocket.  
“Did you like my gift?”  
“How…”  
You are interrupted by Frank who grabs you from behind, putting the knife on your throat. Carl calls the police. Other clients leave the pub but the mysterious stranger who came to the aid continues to smile, ignoring the gravity of the situation.  
He approaches and Frank steps back, grabbing you. You can feel the blade sinking in your neck. You look at your savior, with the hope to be saved but he seems more interested in fighting.  
Frank is scared and drunk and he cuts your throat impulsively. You can feel something hot and wet dripping your neck. You put your hands on it and you can feel the deep cut. Blood flow out copious and you fall on your knees.  
The last thing you see before faint is the stranger’s angry expression.  


***  


You wake up suddenly. You’re in a bed with white sheets. In fact, you realize you’re in a small attic where everything is white. Sunlight filters from the windows, giving you a familiar feeling. You get up, hearing a heavy tinkling that turns into a rolling on the parquet.  
You can recognize the gold coin found last night. You turn it between your fingers, it’s beautiful, almost hypnotic.  
Thoughts come back to the fact that you’ve been gagged. Instinctively you put a hand on your neck. Nothing, not even a scratch.  
“Don’t worry about those cunts, they are done.”  
You wince and look behind you. The tall mysterious man is smiling. You stare, silently.  
“Don’t you want to ask me something?” He asks.  
You can’t decide, having a lot of questions in your head but you’re surprised to don’t be scared. You feel more of a kind of inner strength, like you can deal with any worse situation.  
“It’s the coin.”  
You grow your eyebrows.  
“How did you know what I was thinking of?” You don’t receive any answer “Who are you?” You continue.  
He approaches and smells you, closing his eyes. You feel embarrassed and you move away a little. You look at him, again that strange feeling. You are attracted but you try to don’t think about it, afraid he can reads your mind.  
“It’s you.” He finally speaks. “It’s been a long time since we met.”  
You sigh. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember. I had a very, very bad day. I have to go.”  
You walk away.  
“It’s me. Jack.”  
You look at him and shake your head.  
“John? Honestly I didn’t remember which name I used to introduce myself.” He says quickly.  
You want to leave but the curiosity is killing you and that coin in your pocket starts to be heavy, like it wants to hold you there.  
“Ok. Jack.” You come back. “Help me to remember.”  
“We were lovers, once. When the big cities were small woody villages. When the big clans were in war and when young warriors dying for gangrene of a axe wound.”  
His words are sweet from those lips, you can smell the scent of beer. Like a dirge, you feel caught. You both approach while he continues to tell that story.  
“When life blew out of you, that day on the burning stake, I was there till the end. I didn’t able to help, I wasn’t allowed. But I was sure to capture your soul to keep it with me. Unfortunately some other god decided something different for you.”  
“God?” You whisper.  
“Not the god you have on your mind now but yeah, a god. He sents your soul somewhere and you’ve been reincarnated in this body.”  
You look around, moisten your lips. It’s not easy to hear about your death but in the end it can’t be true.  
“It is.”  
You look at him.  
“It’s all true.” He insists.  
“Stop getting inside my head.”  
He slides his braces along his arms and puts his hands on your hips. You just realize how tall is Jack, or John, or what the hell is he called. You feel a bit of fear and mind what’s going to happen. You are undecided but you are attracted by him and in the end you don’t have a place where to go.  
For a moment, you can see the scene when you come home, your boyfriend trying to justify himself and you look straight into his eyes and empty the bag. Consider the words to use, you could tell him you betrayed him when you were drunk or you just had sex with another dude.  
“If you want to do that we should do that, sweetie.” He whispers.  
You look at him embarrassed, remembering he can read your mind. He licks his lips and smiles before takes you up from the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist and kissing you roughly.  
You let yourself go and wrap your arms around his wide and muscular shoulders. You approach the bed, he throw you on it, takes off the white tank top and unbutton his pants.  
You take off your sweater, staying with a tight t-shirt that he tears you off as soon as he reaches you the bed.  
He leaves a trail of kisses on your belly until he reaches the bra that takes off in a moment. He plays with your breasts, licking and biting and you can do nothing but bear that pleasant torture. You unbutton your jeans and he helps you get it off, passing directly to the slip he takes off roughly. He stops for endless minutes to delight your arousal and he glances at you with satisfaction, seeing you in pleasure.  
When you are close to the final pleasure, he stops and cares about giving you more pleasure in another way. He gets down his pants to the knees and he penetrates you firmly, keeping the grip on your hips.  
The movement is getting faster and you cling on his shoulder with your nails, leaving visible marks on them. You feel the pleasure wrapping you and he gets even more excited, pushing with all the strength until he comes in turn.  
He bends on you, breathless, you are exhausted, falling asleep. Your mind wanders in dreams and nightmares, as if it were in another world so real to be almost frightening.  
You are walking in a dense forest, the sun filters into the leaves and you feel lost.  
A sense of discomfort wrapping you and you are about to panic when you find a clearing with a small wooden hut. Smoke goes out of the chimney, the door is ajar. A cat comes out and stops looking suspicious before leaving. The place seems inhabited and you decide to approach.  
“You died, in that pub.”  
You turn around, seeing Jack, or whatever is his name. He stare on you, he’s so serious.  
“You died, in that pub.” he repeats.  
You can’t say anything.  
“But now I took your soul and now you’re mine. You will be for eternity.”  
He smiles, you know that smile very well.  
You should be afraid, maybe, or angry but you’re just confused and that tall redhead makes you feel safe. You approach him, taking his hand. In the other one you are keeping the gold coin he gave you.  
You both enter the house.

 

The End.


End file.
